Protector
by Jetainia
Summary: It was known by the world that having a name on your arm meant you have a soulmate. It wasn't known by someone who actually had a name on their arm.


_Monthly Challenges for All - Harmony of Souls Eternal_

 _Fill #1_

 _Representations: Harry Potter, Phil Coulson, Soulmates, Protection_

 _Bonus Challenges: Schooner, Keen_

 _Word count: 3,863_

* * *

It wasn't something to be talked about or even looked at. There was to be no mention that the freak had a soulmate while precious Dudders didn't. So it was hidden away, it was explained as something that his crazy, crazy parents did to him while he was young. It was just another scar that he had on his body, like the lightning bolt on his forehead from the car crash that had killed his parents.

Harry didn't realise that there was something more to his scar that spelt out a name on his upper left bicep. He accepted the story that the Dursley's told him. What reason would he have to not believe them? Well, except for the times when the light blue scar lit up with a warmth so different to that of the scar on his forehead. The lightning bolt gave him nightmares, the name gave him comfort. It was strange but so was he. He was, after all, a freak of nature.

It wasn't until he was fourteen years old and trapped in a graveyard with Voldemort hovering over him that he realised maybe the Dursley's had lied about the name scar, just as they had about his lightning bolt. Voldemort was bragging about how he could touch Harry now that he held some of Harry's blood in his own body and yet when he tried to do just that, a barrier was formed between Voldemort's thin finger and Harry's forehead

Voldemort frowned heavily as he tried to force his finger closer but the barrier held strong. Harry could feel both of his special scars blazing. The lightning bolt on his head was like fire, burning and burning as if he was wreathed in flames. The name was cool and calm. It sent out waves of protection, burning a cool fire that soothed the raging inferno Voldemort was sending through their link.

Harry gave out a massive gasp for air as finally Voldemort gave up and let his hand fall away from Harry's face. "Well, isn't that interesting. Little Harry Potter has a protector. Too weak to fight your own battles, Potter?"

The Death Eaters surrounding them laughed and Harry glared up at Voldemort. "I am perfectly capable of fighting you by myself."

"Then do it," Voldemort hissed, getting right up in Harry's face as he goaded the boy.

Harry growled and scrambled up, grabbing his wand from where it had fallen while he was trussed to the grave marker statue. Voldemort simply stood, waiting for him to prepare himself, watching with amusement as he scrambled around. "Whenever you're ready, Potter."

Harry, not knowing what he was doing but following through with the instincts that hadn't yet lied to him, sent a wave of thought saying _stay back, don't interfere_ towards the name on his arm. He felt the constant presence that he hadn't realised was always there back away. He could tell that there was still something there but it wasn't as prominent as before.

Assuming he had done something right, Harry pointed his wand at Voldemort and said, "Whenever you're ready, _Voldemort_."

Voldemort laughed, "Surely you know how duels work, Potter? We bow to each other first."

And so it went on. Harry desperately tried to keep up with Voldemort as the older wizard casually threw the three Unforgivable Curses out along with a varying range of other Dark spells. When their wands connected and the small globes of light were forced into Voldemort's wand, Harry almost lost his concentration completely. Out of his enemy's wand came very familiar figures that he knew, even if he'd only seen them in pictures.

The ghosts of his father and mother smiled at him and he smiled tentatively back, trying to keep his attention on both his parents and the battle still currently waging between his wand and Voldemort's. "We'll distract him for you, Harry. Get to the cup and get back to Hogwarts."

"We love you, dear," his mother's voice was soft and kind, "never forget that we love you. And remember, you always have someone in your corner."

His parents, Cedric Diggory, Bertha Jorkins and an unknown old man dove at Voldemort together and Harry wasn't given any more time to think over what his mother said. Instead, he dove towards the cup and Cedric Diggory's still body, letting the portkey drag him back to Hogwarts. What followed was an interrogation from his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who turned out to be a Death Eater in disguise and finding the actual person that was meant to have been teaching them.

He was forced to relive the whole nightmare in Dumbledore's office and the only way he managed was by having his godfather Sirius Black next to him and Fawkes the Phoenix singing softly. He didn't mention his name scar. It was just another freaky thing about him and he didn't want anyone to know about it. It was _his_.

The potion Madam Pomfrey had him drink when he arrived in the Hospital Wing sent him drifting off to sleep soon after he drank it. As promised by the name of the potion, he didn't dream but he could feel the same cool protective barrier surrounding him as his mind slumbered in the darkness. In another country entirely, an army recruit just turned twenty smiled softly and continued to protect.

* * *

Harry paid more attention to his name scar after the events of the graveyard and could feel when whatever was on the other side paid active attention, when it was simply in the background and when it was focusing away from him. He could also tell when it was danger. The first time that happened he almost had a heart attack as strong waves of fear and determination suddenly overtook him. Luckily, he was in his bed in Gryffindor tower with the curtains closed when that happened.

Unsure of what he was doing but knowing he had to help whatever it was just as it had helped him, Harry sent back protection. He focussed all his will on protecting whatever was on the other side of the mark on his skin. He curled his hand around the name and thought of nothing else until the feelings of danger had passed. With a quiet sigh, Harry flopped back down from his sitting position and wondered if he should maybe try researching strange marks on people's skin. He dismissed that thought almost immediately though.

He was a freak, always had been. He may have found out that magic was normal but not everyone had been singled out by a Dark Lord and hunted down with the intent to kill. He had never seen anyone else with a name etched on their skin and while the Dursley's were not the most reliable sources of information, they had shown no sign that the name on his bicep actually meant anything. Surely they would have if it was normal, right?

* * *

May 2nd, 1998. The name on his arm flared and turned from the deep green it generally was to black. He stared at it in horror. His soulmate was dead. Everyone knew that when your soul mark turned black it meant that whoever the name belonged to had died. The black mark embedded itself in his mind and he knew that if he closed his eyes he would still be able to see it.

There was past evidence that soulmates could continue to live without the other but it was always described as a half-life. He had hoped that that would never happen to him and now it had. Pushing the thought away, he focused on the paperwork in front of him. Maybe if he lost himself in his work, he would be able to forget that his soulmate was dead for a little while.

Except that didn't work as a few minutes after he had started slowly filling in the file in front of him, the mark flared again. He jumped in shock and cursed as the pen left a large line straight through the page in front of him. Jerking his sleeve up as the mark flared again, he could only gape in amazement as the black slowly turned back into green. His soulmate was still alive!

* * *

Harry Potter was currently making his way to the United States as the Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA) were planning to bring in a Muggle government agency to the secret that was the wizarding world and the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW) had thought it wise to send representatives of various different ministries. The British Ministry of Magic (MoM) had thought that _the_ Harry Potter – an ordinary Auror but also the Vanquisher of Voldemort – would be the best representative they could send.

The Muggle agency in question was known as the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, also known as SHIELD. There were other representatives, of course. The MoM couldn't just send one person even if they considered that person to be the most important person they possessed in their country (a view that made Harry cringe and want to run away from Britain for the rest of his life).

Harry was accompanied by the Head Auror – one Julian Montgomery – along with a few other representatives from other departments such as the Department of Mysteries and the Wizarding Relations Department. He was the youngest one in the British group, only being twenty-five (and still, he got awed looks, even though the war was long over).

As he stood waiting for the international portkey to activate, he absentmindedly scratched the scar on his arm as it itched slightly. Throughout the years since the Battle of Hogwarts, he had occasionally had the same sort of protection he had had in the graveyard facing against Voldemort and assumed he had done the same when he had forced his own thoughts of protection down the scar.

"Ready?" Julian asked the group and they all nodded, tightening their grip on the length of rope that was the portkey that would take them to the MACUSA building.

* * *

He shifted again as the mark on his arm tingled once more. Beside him, Barton gave him a sideways look. "You okay there, Coulson?"

"Of course, merely concerned about the situation we are entering blind in a few moments."

"Ri-ight," Clint drawled. Clearly he didn't believe Phil's words.

Phil huffed, "It itches."

Clint immediately shut up and nodded in understanding. The whole world knew that when your soul mark was itching, it meant that you were about to be in the vicinity of your soulmate for the first time. Across from him, Director Fury sent him a concerned look and Phil shrugged at his old friend, he was an Agent of SHIELD first and not even a soulmate could change that should the mysterious meeting they were about to enter end up being a trap.

Nick nodded in acknowledgement and went back to reading the very slim folder that held the brief of the meeting the World Security Council (WSC) had sent them when the organisation MACUSA had reached out. From beside him, Clint rested a comforting hand over his knee just as Phil had done to the other many times before.

Clint Barton hadn't originally supposed to come to this mysterious meeting, but Nick had known that if Clint was left alone on base without Phil there to keep him in line (and there was no way he was leaving Phil behind), there would be no base to return to. So Clint came and Phil was immensely grateful for the presence of his team member and friend once his soul mark started itching.

* * *

He withheld a sigh as the MACUSA worker waiting to greet them completely ignored Julian and instead turned straight to Harry. He had hoped that perhaps wizards in another country would show a bit more sense but apparently his hopes had been in vain. "Harry Potter!" The man enthused, "Absolutely wicked to meet you! I've heard all about how you dealt with that Lord Voldemort fellow a few years back and I must say, absolute sick job you did there."

Having dealt with far too many people like the man in front of him, Harry merely smiled and said, "Thanks," before turning and introducing the Head Auror standing just in front of him, "This is my boss, Head Auror Julian Montgomery."

The greeter flushed a little in embarrassment as he realised he had bypassed the man in charge of the small group from Britain and directed his full attention towards Harry's boss. Harry let out a silent sigh of relief and allowed himself to sink back into the background. He listened with half an ear as they were lead through MACUSA's corridors to wherever the meeting was taking place with the rest of his attention on the building they were walking through.

He snapped back his attention when he heard a name that had never before been spoken in his presence and yet was as familiar to him as his own. "…Phil Coulson, Maria Hill and Clint Barton are accompanying Director Fury today…" the man was saying as Julian listened, nodding along with each name.

Phil Coulson. His hand started to creep up to his arm but he brought it down quickly as he noticed the movement. Phil Coulson. Those words had been etched on his skin for as long as he knew. What did it mean that there was someone he was about to be in the same room as with the same name that Harry had been staring at all his life?

Was there actually a real human being on the other side of his scar? Could it be he'd been interacting with a real person all this time and not just some random piece of magic? Harry had to know and he had to know _now_. Ignoring the halls of MACUSA going by, Harry sent a questioning thought at his scar. _Are you real_?

* * *

It was only through long years of training and many undercover ops that kept Phil from outright jumping when he felt the trembling question asking about his existence. Slightly confused as to why his soulmate was asking, Phil sent back an affirmation. Could it be that somehow his soulmate didn't know? How was that possible?

Soulmates were rare, yes, but everyone knew about them. Phil had been six when the name Harry Potter had imprinted itself on his bicep and he had known instantly that somewhere in the world his soulmate had been born. His mother had told him stories about soulmates before that, his classmates dreamed about having a soulmate of their own, multiple TV shows contained a soul-bonded couple. It was practically impossible to not know about soulmates and yet, maybe, his didn't.

* * *

His eyes were scanning the room as soon as he entered, searching for the Muggle group from SHIELD. He knew that within that group he would find Phil Coulson and possibly, _hopefully_ , finally understand why he had a name branded on his arm. He had received confirmation that whatever or whoever was on the other side of his scar was real. Was the Phil he was about to see his Phil?

He found the Muggle group. Four people sat at the end of a very long table that took up most of the room they were in. Along the table sat other wizard delegates from various countries but Harry took no notice of them. He blindly followed Julian as the other man followed their guide to their places, sitting down when the group stopped. Not once did his eyes leave the suited man sitting next to a man that reminded Harry a lot of Kingsley Shacklebolt but wearing an eyepatch and another man in a purple hoodie. A female sat next to Muggle Kingsley on the other side.

The suited man was the blandest man Harry had ever since and controversially the most interesting one as well. He had brown hair covering his head, blue eyes that scanned the room much as Harry's had done and a placid smile on his face. He looked to be the epitome of calm and yet when those blue eyes met his green ones, Harry knew that this was _his Phil Coulson_ and the man was as tightly wound up as him.

Purple-Hoodie Guy leaned over slightly and whispered in _Phil Coulson's_ ear, making _Phil_ nod and Purple-Hoodie Guy also started staring at Harry. He could see a slight movement from Muggle Kingley's lips and knew from the other two men's reactions that he had told them off for staring at Harry. The lady next to them rolled her eyes and seemed to mutter something which made Purple-Hoodie Guy grin widely and perform a mock half-bow towards her. She rolled her eyes again and went back to flipping through the folder in front of her.

Harry paid no attention to the entire meeting apart from confirming the name of the suited man and incidentally his companions. Muggle Kingsley was the Director of SHIELD, Nick Fury while the lady next to him was Assistant Director Maria Hill. Purple-Hoodie Guy was a specialist named Clint Barton and the suited man was, indeed, Phil Coulson.

He only realised that the meeting was over when Julian nudged him slightly and jerked his head to indicate they were leaving. He flushed slightly, he had spent the entire meeting either staring at Phil Coulson or staring down at the shiny table surface as he tried to ignore the itching coming from his name scar. As he stood up, his eyes flicked to where Phil was sitting and saw that the man was gone, along with the rest of his group.

Sighing, Harry followed Julian out of the room. They would be heading to the accommodation that MACUSA had organised for the visiting representatives. The meeting had had the possibility of lasting a few days should the Muggles be agreeable to the existence of magic and drawing up a treaty with them, Harry assumed that was what had happened. Plus there was the fact that it wasn't wise to take too many international portkeys within a short span of time.

"Harry Potter?" Harry spun around at the quiet voice and found himself facing one Phil Coulson. The man smiled, "I thought as much. Phil Coulson."

Harry took the offered hand and shook it, "You already know my name."

"And you already knew mine."

Harry nodded his head to concede the point. Phil gestured to the corridor behind Harry, "Shall we?"

Glancing behind him, Harry saw no sign of Julian and mentally shrugged. "Lead the way."

Phil Coulson did lead the way. He lead them towards a small café close to the entrance to MACUSA and ordered both of them a hot chocolate. Harry let himself be guided, he had never felt more safe then he did right now. It may have been strange to trust a complete stranger as much as he did but then, he also felt as though Phil wasn't a stranger at all.

They didn't speak until the waitress had deposited their hot chocolates on the table in front of them and they had both taken a sip of the warm drink. Then Phil cleared his throat, "I am assuming that you somehow know nothing about what the mark on your arm means."

Harry stared at him, "It actually does mean something? It's not just your name somehow branded on my arm?"

Yes," Phil nodded. "It's a soul mark. I have one as well, except mine says your name."

"Soul mark?"

"Have you ever heard of a soulmate?" Phil asked gently and Harry hesitated. He had heard of it, he thought. He vaguely remembered some kids at his primary school talking about how nice it would be to have a soul mate and Dudley had possibly once thrown a tantrum about not having one. With these thoughts in mind, Harry hesitantly nodded in answer to Phil's question.

"You are mine and I am yours," was Phil's simple statement after he nodded.

"How?"

Phil sighed, "Nobody really knows. There have been studies on the people who didn't mind having their bond poked and prodded but none that ever gave any conclusive results. All we know is that it's a natural phenomenon that occurs to about 15% of the world's population. Two people who have extremely compatible personalities are linked via the other's name written on their bicep and they can communicate via this link.

"Before these two individuals meet, the communication is limited to feelings and vague impressions. After they meet and 'solidify the bond' as the studies say, the individuals are able to hold entire conversations nonverbally with their soulmate. It is this link that lets us know when we are around our soulmate, surely you noticed how your mark started itching when you grew close to the MACUSA building this morning?"

Harry thought back to the itching that had been bothering him before the portkey had taken off and nodded in agreement. Still, soulmates? Why had the Dursley's never told him about this? Why hadn't he learned about it in Hogwarts? "How can I believe anything you say?"

Phil smiled wryly, "You already do, but I can prove it to you if you trust me."

"I do," Harry blurted out, suddenly wanting very much for the man in front of him to know that he trusted him.

"Thank you," Phil said, acknowledging the statement. "Would you allow me to touch your mark?"

An innocent seeming question that had Harry blinking. The mark on his arm was _his_ and he had never allowed anyone else to see it except the Dursley's, let alone _touch_ it. Still, looking into Phil's eyes, he found himself willing to allow this man to do just that. He didn't speak, merely rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm towards Phil.

Phil was slow as he reached towards Harry's arm, giving Harry enough time to retreat if he wanted to. But he didn't. He found he couldn't wait until Phil laid his hand on the name that had kept him company for so long. The rush of warmth that accompanied Phil's hand landing on the mark was unexpected and Harry gasped.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before, better even than the one time he had drunk the _felix felicis_ potion and felt unstoppable. A jumble of emotions and memories that weren't his swirled around his mind but the most prominent one was one of love. Harry opened his eyes, unaware of when he had closed them and found Phil smiling softly at him.

"You're my soulmate," he whispered and Phil nodded.

"Yes, I am. Just as you are mine."

Harry thought back to all the times a shield had sprung up around him when he needed it most and was accompanied by the calm feeling exuding from his name scar— _soul mark_. "Thank you."

Phil shook his head, pulling his hand away from Harry's mark and settling it around the mug in front of him. "No thanks are necessary, Harry."


End file.
